


The Howling House

by TeaAndATale



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: College AU, F/M, Meet-Cute, Modern AU, Spoopy not Spooky, Steggy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27295105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndATale/pseuds/TeaAndATale
Summary: Studying aboard in at liberal arts college in America for a semester was supposed to be the change from her rigid academic routine that Peggy needed. She hadn't counted on a dramatic roommate roommate that was hard to tell no to, or that maybe her roommate really did know what she was doing when she dragged her to a Halloween house party.Or, Peggy experiences her first real college Halloween party and makes some friends too.
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 21
Kudos: 65





	The Howling House

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I must extend much gratitude towards @dorrinverrakai1 for support when I was procrastinating writing this fic, fiddling with minute details that probably wouldn’t make it in, and for pitching all the ideas I have daydreamed about for this extended universe instead of you know… sitting down and finishing this. I’ve been working on this one for a few years, and vowed to finally complete it in time for Halloween. 
> 
> Though this is set in the early to mid-2010s, I have fudged some of the realities of geography, American higher education, and general timeline to suit the fic’s needs.
> 
> I didn’t expect to be as long as it ended up… which is apparently a common thread with me. But many characters kept forcing themselves into scenes and well, here we are.
> 
> As eluded to above, this of course started as a one-shot, but I have a lot of ideas. There is a solid sequel in mind, with lots of further ideas that I’d like to explore. So if anyone is interested after this, I may have more coming. 
> 
> Happy Halloween.

**  
**

🎃

The fall foliage in the Northeast of America is indeed every bit as spectacular as the brochures advertised, Peggy whole-heartedly concedes to that. But a beautiful, quintessentially New England autumn day, as she has come to learn, quickly turns into a blustery, damp night. It was just eerie enough, what with thick clouds rolling over the looming moon, obscuring it from view before moonlight broke through once again, reflecting off the wet pavement.

She’s not entirely sure how she ended up here, trudging through deep puddles and falling leaves in her leather flight jacket as Angie practically bounces beside her in her red-glittered heels, swinging a wicker basket holding a stuffed dog. Even without being quite convinced of the new plans for the evening, the wind finds itself way inside the brown leather to cause chills, Peggy can just about taste the perfectly ghoulish effect the weather has created for Halloween.

Pounding bass echoes off plenty of campus buildings and apartment balconies as they made their way across campus, passing across the main roads crisscrossing campus, off to sleepier streets.

It had been a long week crammed full of papers, assignments and late nights that Peggy had half a mind to go straight to bed. But her self-pronounced guide to “the American college experience” and roommate Angie refused to let her spend the night in their dorm room. Not when there was an awesome party to attend. Especially on Halloween.

Angie, a godsend of a randomly placed roommate, balked at her notion entirely. And as Peggy has learned over the last few months, she was not one to take no for an answer.

“Come on English! You’re in America on Halloween,” she cries out, flipping her hair back before putting her hands on her hips. “We have to go to a house party.” She turned back towards the mirror to continue working on her hair.

Sure, Peggy had plenty of curiosity in finding out to what extent American Halloween parties matched their big-screen portrayals. But then again, she’d already been disappointed by the few ragers she had already attended. Mostly, it seemed to consist of heavily watered-down beer, an insult to the pints she’d grab with mates after class across the pond, and frat boys that didn’t seem to respect boundaries. She didn’t mind the few dance-heavy parties Angie had taken her to previously at her cousin’s sorority house, but after a long week of classes, and the terrible experiences of frat house parties, she had been leaning more toward staying in to watch a spooky movie instead. Or Rocky Horror Picture Show. That would be a more than enjoyable evening.

“Ang, really –”

“Come on Peggy!” She gesticulated wildly in her direction. “You’re already wearing a costume!”

Technically true, though hardly anyone seemed to get it all day. She had pointedly tried to buck the vast amount of oversexualized costumes, instead choosing a costume that didn’t leave her shivering and uncomfortable in drafty lecture halls on an already chilly autumn day.

“English! You’ve got what, two more months here? With me, the greatest roommate of all time?!” she pointed out grinning brightly. “Anyway grandma, you can sleep when you’re dead,” she added before physically pulling Peggy off her bed.

“I suppose I can accompany you and come back when it’s not quite as exciting as a scary movie screening might have been.”

“Oh come on English. This won’t be like that last party. I promise.”

Peggy makes a grunting noise of disbelief.

“Besides, Molly should never have taken you to that frat party. She should know better than to go to that house.”

“Then you can understand my hesitation about going to another frat party.”

“It’s not a frat party. It’s just a house party. It just happens to be a house where a bunch of guys live. It’s kind of campus famous actually. They’re known for really going all out for their parties supposedly. I think they have a funny name for it.”

“A funny name for their house?”

Angie nodded absently as she fixed her ribbons and smoothed down the hem of her dress.

“The Howling House, I think.”

“The Howling House?”

Angie shrugged, unhelpfully. “It’ll be fun. You’ll see!”

Which is how Peggy found herself taking the scenic tour to some random house party that she fully anticipated to leave after a socially acceptable appearance to appease her adamant roommate.

There were signs of life, even from the sidewalk as they approach the Howling House, plenty of costumed college students party-hopping on a Friday night.

But then the lights catch her attention. The house, while like many they had passed along the way, not only has a prominent wrap-around porch, but is incredibly decorated.

Orange paper lanterns painted to look like jack-o'-lanterns are hung on the beams all across the porch. Spidery cobwebs are painstakingly arranged all over the railing, columns and greenery. What look to be ghosts, witches and bats can be found all around. The steps are lined with real pumpkins, both plain and carved, in shades of orange, ghostly green and white.

Three full height skeletons are arranged and posed on the front lawn, decked out in costumes of their own, overseeing the small collection of tombstones, one proclaiming “here lies Ned… gone too soon.”

Despite herself, Peggy grins. It’s like she’s stepped straight into a Hollywood depiction of a quintessential classic Halloween. It puts the whole block to shame.

“I told you they go all out,” Angie says with an enthusiastic bounce, tossing one of her braids over her shoulder.

“So whose place is this?” Peggy asked in a shout over the loud dance music blasting through the place.

“Not totally sure who actually owns it but it’s kind of a popular spot. All these guys live here,” she shouted in reply, waving over to some strangers. “My cousin said that the guy she likes is friends with one of the guys who lives here. And that her best friend’s old roommate’s boyfriend was lab partners with one of the guys, and said they have a reputation for throwing awesome parties. That and there’s plenty of hotties to go around.”

She grinned salaciously.

“I imagine you have a specific one in mind?”

Her eyes glaze over. “Oh just this guy from my Communications class. Super sweet. Very charismatic. And he always shares his notes with me. And whatever he gets from the vending machine before class.”

Peggy snorts. Angie had a particular crush in every single one of her classes.

The whole evening starts to make sense. And though she’s happy for Angie’s new crush, a well deserved bough of happiness, she’s not keen on being a third wheel at a party she never wanted to attend. She bites her lip. She’s lucky to have made a friend like Angie. Besides, she supposes she could still salvage the rest of her night.

The house is crowded with costumed guests of all sorts, milling about holding red solo cups and cans of cheap beer. Angie pressed on, pulling Peggy along with her, expertly zigzagging through the crowd.

“Do you see anyone cute?” Angie asks her excitedly.

“In the two minutes we’ve been here where I was focused on not getting trampled by a sexy zombie or a sexy clown? No Angie. I haven’t.”

Angie shrugs and gasps as she notices some other class acquaintance. Peggy listens as she asks the girl about the party and compliments her costume, some TV cheerleader character from what she understands of the barely intelligible conversation. Then Angie expertly transitions the conversation to the priorities, specifically about where to find the booze and the hottie hosts.

Across the sea of sexy robots, vampires, skeletons, nurses and a whole slew of other professions embellished for a very different kind of aesthetic, she makes eye contact with a guy leaning against a wall, wearing a yellow hat and an odd-looking blazer. There’s something in his face that strikes her, a kindness in the cute sheepish smile he gives her. She returns it as she tries to figure out what she finds familiar about his outfit.

Before she can get a long enough glimpse, Angie pulls her along in pursuit of the keg, introducing her to familiar faces as they go.

Red solo cups secured, Angie leads them back towards the thick of the party, picking a spot with a good vantage point of the makeshift dancefloor. Angie sips eagerly, but Peggy finds the watery sorry excuse for a beer distasteful. Unfortunately, being considered underage in America, though she’s twenty years old, prevents her from easily remedying her drinking choices.

“Make sure to keep your eyes peeled for my hottie!” she demands over the music.

“Ang, you know I don’t know who he is or what he looks like right?”

“Fair. Then just look out for hotties in general.”

Peggy rolls her eyes and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Come on English, what’s the fun of going to a party if you’re not even looking out for any hotties?”

“I just don’t see the point of starting something up with just some stray guy if I’m only here another two months.”

“You don’t have to marry the guy Peg! Just have some fun together. Maybe go on a few dates. Make out. What’s the harm in that?”

She supposed there wasn’t any real harm, but though it’s now been a good time and distance from the less the amicable split from her mother-approved ex, she hasn’t found any real interest in any of the boys back home. Since her arrival in the late summer, Peggy had been hesitant about pursuing even anything casual though several guys had made their interest known. She’d never flirted back. Sure some of them had been attractive indeed, but there was no spark or chemistry pulling her interest beyond politeness. There was no point, she decided.

Before Peggy can retort, Angie gasps loudly.

“There he is!”

She points loudly toward two guys having a conversation on the opposite side of the room. The taller one is a brown-haired guy wearing red boxing gloves, striped shorts, and bare chested apart from the American flag draped over his shoulders. Immediately Peggy knows this to be Angie’s crush. His friend is the guy Peggy noticed earlier, the one with the hat and blazer, though he looked more than a little frustrated from her vantage point.

“Bucky! Hey Bucky!” Angie calls out, waving wildly.

The taller one, who seemed to be giving the other some sort of pep talk, turns and grins brightly. She’ll give it to Angie. He’s admittedly conventionally attractive with a charming smile and abs that would make many swoon. Angie grabs Peggy’s arm and drags her along towards them

“Hi Angie! Glad you could make it.” His tone is genuine and he easily accepts and returns Angie’s enthusiastic hug. “Or should I call you Dorothy, study buddy.”

Angie preens under his attention, twirling to show off her look, the skirt of her blue gingham dress billowing around. “You got that right! Dorothy and Toto at are your service.”

“I don’t think she could have picked a more fitting costume for a drama major,” Peggy quips. She notices the other guy snort at that.

“That’s true,” Angie says with a laugh. “This is Peggy, my roommate. She’s here from London for the semester.”

“Nice to meet you Peggy. I hope you’ve been enjoying your semester here in our neck of the woods.” He then points to the guy in the straw hat next to him. “This is Steve. We’re also roommates.”

Peggy watches Steve flush a little as his friend nudges his shoulder. But then he holds out his hand to both of them, an oddly formal gesture that makes Angie giggle, but Peggy smiles at his earnestness. He seemed a little nervous and shy, she thought, not unfriendly.

She studies him a little closer, trying to figure out his costume from the closer view. Instead, she gets distracted by his incredibly long lashes.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” Steve replies. “Can I get you ladies anything to drink?”

“We got some beer from the keg thanks,” Angie tells them.

Peggy bites her lip and eyes her cup with a sour expression. “If you can even call this beer.”

Bucky and Angie laughed.

“English here obviously has higher, more sophisticated European standards.”

“Our finely crafted light beers aren’t what you’re used to, huh?” Bucky says, but the teasing is in good fun.

“Not quite. Our pubs back home sure put this stuff to shame. There’s actual flavor.”

Bucky laughs again.

“I can get you something else to drink,” Steve chimes in, the only one who didn’t laugh.

“Oh,” she replies in surprise. “No, no. Cheap beer is just fine. I may have, let’s call it more of a refined palette, but I’m really not a food snob. Or drink snob in this case, I suppose. Either way, I’m not above some free beer.”

He looks at her like he doesn’t quite believe her, so she purposefully takes a sip of the watery liquid. As Angie and Bucky continue talking about their shared class, Steve excuses himself from the group.

“So wait, what’s your costume Bucky?” Angie asks

Bucky flexes his arms once before putting his hands on his hips, smirking. “Isn’t it obvious? The ultimate underdog Rocky.” He punches the air twice. “It’s perfect huh? Bucky? Rocky?”

Angie giggles and her gazing at his bare chest is not subtle. Peggy is barely able to hold in her laughter.

Peggy looks around the house. Despite the similarities to other parties she’s been to; the ever-present keg, the red solo cups, a sweaty crowd of dancers and a beer pong table; she finds a different energy at this party. It’s loud, but it’s not wildly out of control. There’s definitely a lot more conversation happening, jolly laughter and giggles widespread. The house is full of warmth and personality, even from the little she’s seen.

Angie and Bucky were in the middle of gossiping over what could possibly have led their perpetually late grad-student TA to show up to class mid-lecture this week when Steve returns holding a green bottle. He holds it out towards Peggy a little sheepishly.

“Maybe this would do? It’s nothing spectacularly better, but one of our roommates exclusively drinks European beer. All he has left right now are Heinekens though.”

The gesture, small and unimportant as it is, settles deep within Peggy. She grins appreciatively at him.

“You stole that from Gabe and Dernier’s room?” Bucky asks.

“Gabe owes me anyway,” says Steve shrugging.

Bucky laughs. “You’ve never raided their minifridge for me before.”

Steve turns pink and ducks his head focusing back down at his own cup. “You can get your own beer just fine jerk.”

“Thank you,” she tells Steve sincerely. “Really. You’ve just saved my entire outlook on this party.”

He grin shyly. “Sure. I wouldn’t be a good host if I didn’t try to provide our guests with more than beer flavored water.”

“I’m sorry but is Bud Light and the like really what Americans drink? It’s horrendous. You do all know they’re robbing your wallets blind right?”

Steve laughs nodding at her. “What can I say? We Americans are stubbornly patriotic.”

She huffs dramatically. “What a shock,” she teases back.

“We actually have a couple Europeans in the house, but for whatever reason we still have terrible taste in beer,” Steve admits.

“It’s the broken college kids in us,” Bucky quips.

“So you’re in Bucky’s Communication and Leadership class?” Steve asks Angie.

Angie nods. “Yup! It’s a pretty cool class even though our professor is a little geeky don’t you think Bucky?”

He laughs. “The PowerPoint puns are a bit much, but she’s fun. We’re learning about a lot of different world leaders and studying their speeches for how they make their impact.”

“We get to watch so many videos! I figured it would be good for, as an actress, there’s nothing like having stage presence. But it’s giving me so many insights into characters for auditions!”

“You’ll definitely be giving me a few pointers Dorothy,” Bucky says playfully.

“I happen to be really good at giving pointers,” Angie says with a toss of her hair and eyeing Bucky with exaggeratedly wide eyes.

Bucky grins flirtatiously back at her. “Well then, Miss Dorothy, how about you and those ruby slippers give me some pointers on the dance floor?”

“Well I thought you’d never ask!”

Peggy watches her drag him away with a smile. Angie certainly was never shy about what she wanted. She thinks that’s part of the reason they got on so well. She notices Bucky take her roommate’s wicker basket and set it aside for safe keeping. Angie comes alive to the thumping bass of _Disturbia_ , swaying with her new friend.

An awkward lull in the previous conversation takes hold. Peggy takes a sip of her drink for something to do. Steve seems to have the same idea, looking sheepishly at her before staring into the depths of his red plastic cup.

“So… I’m glad to hear the rumors that you survived were true after all,” Steve says.

There’s a small tentative grin on his face but Peggy is baffled at his attempt at a conversation starter.

“Excuse me?”

His already ruddy cheeks flush further. “Oh. Um. I just meant you know, about all the myths and conspiracy theories of survival that some of the newer evidence presents. You know, because of your costume. Because you’re Amelia Earhart. Right? I mean I just assumed. Sorry.”

He bows his head in embarrassment just as everything clicks for Peggy.

For the first time all night, Peggy finds herself at ease, grinning broadly at the recognition. He’s the second person who had readily recognized her costume with no prompting all day, the first being her political science professor. And that surely didn’t count.

“No you’re exactly right,” she echoes with a pleased smile. She laughs and his expression brightens. “I can’t believe you guessed my costume correctly. Hardly anyone else has even noticed that I was an aviator or in a costume to begin with.”

Steve grins. “I really like it. Very original.”

“It’s my first real American Halloween. But I had lost track of time these last few weeks, and though the day required a costume, I had to make use of what I have. Luckily, Amelia is a woman after my own heart. That and I already owned most of these clothes. Though I suppose it’s not spooky enough for Halloween. Or sexy enough for the masses.”

“Nah. It’s awesome,” he says with emphasis. Peggy really likes the way he smiles. “And way more unique. Besides, an Amelia Earhart costume says a lot more about a person than sexy cat does.”

They share a laugh. She likes the sound of his. His smile is very cute indeed she decides, especially paired with those pink cheeks.

“And your costume… I’ve been trying to figure it out. It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

She studies him a little closer, eyeing the straw hat up close, the patches of color on his face, and the burst of colors resembling brush strokes all over his blue blazer.

“Oh of course! You’re a painting,” she guesses. When he tilts his head down to look at the floor, she notices a bit of gauze at his ear. In an instant the gauze, the straw hat and brush strokes make perfect sense. The more she studies him the more details she notices. “Van Gogh?”

He chuckles and shoves his hands in his pockets, but his eyes light up in a way that makes his already lovely blue eyes lovelier.

“You got it.”

“Are you just him or a specific painting?”

“I modelled it after one of his self-portraits. Though I did add the ear bandage just to make it more obvious who I was supposed to be. Especially since the facial hair was sort of a problem for me.”

“I love it!”

“Thank you,” he says, looking a little shy yet excited. “It’s probably a little cliché, but he really is one of my favorites. My art history teacher was giving out extra credit to anyone who dressed up as an artist or work of art that inspired them. I fell behind one week when I caught a cold from one of my roommates, so it was a necessity. And Bucky insisted I wear a costume for tonight so…” he trails off before clearing his throat.

“Well it suits you. It’s definitely one of the best costumes I’ve seen all day.”

“Apart from yours of course. Miles ahead on creativity compared to the amount of sexy cop costumes I’ve seen today.”

“Yes! What’s up with that? I was sure those kinds of costumes were a Hollywood exaggeration! Don’t get me wrong, people should wear what they want, but come on have some originality! Why are we romanticizing and commodifying professions like this?” She shakes her head. “Sorry. I digress.”

“No I agree! It’s all they seem to sell these days. So if you can’t make your own costume or spend a boatload of money on one, all the easy to get costumes don’t offer normal versions anymore.”

“Did you know that a whole row of blokes in my Political Science lecture dressed up like poop emojis without coordinating?” Peggy rolls her eyes. “I guess that’s sort of funny. What are the odds?”

Steve snickers. “Now that’s some incredible cosmic timing.”

“So do you live here?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“Do you guys throw a lot of these then?”

Steve shrugs. “Well I’m not sure if I’d say a lot, but the house definitely sees its fair share of shindigs. I’m not usually around for most of them. I don’t mind them, we agree to them as a group, but I guess I don’t find I have much to do during them,” he admits with a blush.

“Hole up in your room until your roommates finally kick guests out?”

“It’s happened. But no, mostly when it gets a little too loud for me I just go spend time at the art studios until late.”

There’s a crash near the beer pong table that catches their attention. Peggy notices a fallen cup, beer spilling and a girl topples over. Before she can be concerned about it herself, she spots a guy wearing what she thinks may be a Sherlock Holmes costume gently reach for the girl and lead her to a chair. Another guy in a bowtie and an odd red hat rushes away and returns in a flash with a bottle of water and a rag. Sherlock crouches next to the girl checking on her as bowtie passes the water over. Peggy watches for another moment but the girl seems responsive if more than a little giggly.

When she turns back to Steve she notices some sort of nonverbal communication between him and bowtie guy that ends in a nod.

Peggy then turns back towards the dancers, music still roaring along with them to check on Angie. She’s grinning wildly, still enthusiastically dancing with Bucky.

Though they hit another lull in conversation, Peggy finds herself in good company even just standing next to Steve.

“So…” Steve says after a while. “How about a quick tour of the house?”

She thinks that’s a much better, less weird activity than awkwardly standing and watching partygoers including her roommate grinding away.

“Sure.”

He smiles that shy but kind smile once again and it makes her a little warmer inside. He gestures down the hallways with his cup and then leads the way.

The Halloween decorations are not limited to the party areas of the house. There’s definitely a lot of effort put into the party, she’ll give them that.

Steve leads her towards the back of the house and points out a room on the right.

“We turned the back room into a dedicated study space. It’s furthest from common areas so it’s relatively quiet.” Steve opens the door, and it feels a little odd to be in a completely empty room during a raging party. “We’re really strict about it being a quiet space,” he explains.

There’s an array of bookshelves, chairs, tables and lamps. Though the room is empty, there are signs of recent coursework, a laptop or two still partially open, a stack of textbooks. She examines the bookshelves.

“That’s quite a collection of textbooks.”

“We started that a while back. We check in with each other on classes before trying to sell books back. It’s made it easier for some of the guys to save some extra money.”

“How wonderful. They are a hefty sum,” she agrees. “This is a great space.”

“It looks way better now than it did two years ago, let me tell you.”

“You’ve all been in this same house that long?”

He nods. “Oh yeah. Immediately after Freshman year Bucky and I along with three of the others guys moved in. We walked past this house a lot, even managed to sneak into a party here. And we just fell in love with it. It was kind of a pipe dream, living with all your friends in a dream house. But then we found out the guys who lived here before us were graduating, and we were able to work it out before anyone else got it. We were here working and taking classes most of that summer. It’s really become our home since then.”

“I will say,” she says, tracking her finger against the book spines, “it’s more well maintained than I would expect from a bunch of college guys.”

Steve laughs. “Honestly, it took a while. But this became our place. We wanted to really take care of it. And Dugan’s dad is a contractor. He spent a lot of time helping us fix things.”

“Really? How sensible and forward-thinking of you all.”

He grins, clearly proud of their home. She sinks into a cozy upholstered armchair by the window.

“This is a perfect reading spot.”

“It is. It’s actually my favorite reading spot in the house. It gets the perfect amount of sunlight. And the windowsill is wide enough for a mug.”

She runs her finger along said sill, easily imaging an early morning reading a book or newspaper with a cup of tea at this exact spot.

“Are you studying art?” she asks.

He nods. “Yeah. Double major in Studio Art and History.”

“That’s great!”

He shrugs. “Not totally sure what I’m going to do with either of those but hey I have seven more months to figure it all out.”

“Oh it’s your last year?”

“Yeah I’m a senior. Most of us in the house are actually. What about you? Angie said you’re from London?”

“Yes, I’m studying abroad for the semester.”

“That’s so cool! I hope you’re liking it here so far.”

“It’s very different.”

“Oh… Yeah I’m sure it’s a big change.”

“But that’s a good thing,” she adds quickly, hoping she hasn’t offended him. “I had wanted different. Needed it actually”

After a moment, they continue the tour. He shows her all the way around to the back door leading to their yard, paper lanterns and orange string lights lighting the way to a shed, a bonfire pit visible in between. It already looks cozy, even without the fire lit.

There’s a quick tour of the upstairs where most of the bedrooms were, and the staircase leading to the attic, part of which they converted into an extra room.

The weave around the beer pong table, and the dancing, and head into the kitchen which also is well occupied. Steve waves to the bowtie guy from earlier who is standing with two others in some sort of heated debate.

“And that’s where you are absolutely wrong,” bowtie guy says to a shorter guy wearing an extremely long black trench coat and black sunglasses. “Eleven is superior. Hence,” he points to himself, “being the perfect costume choice.”

The black trench coat wearer shakes his head violently. “No way! Ten is way more iconic.”

“Ten is annoying.”

“I definitely agree with Monty about this one, Old Sport” says the third guy in an accent similar to her own.

There’s definitely an air about him evident in his outfit, from impeccable hair arranged with the aid of pomade, to a full three piece white suit, a coupe glass with cocktail to match in one hand, and a silver cane in the other.

“Oh shut up Pinky. Just because you have a crush on him and the stupid fez doesn’t make him the better Doctor!”

“Well Junior, I do not deny that. Matt Smith is lush. But I wouldn’t say no to David Tennent either.”

“This again guys?” Steve calls out.

“Hey Steve!” they all chorus cheerfully despite the squabble.

But then a moment later, Junior crosses his arms and pouts, making his dramatic choice of costume look even more comical.

“Cheer up Junior,” says Steve, “you know Pinky is all about the aesthetic. And being contrary.” This doesn’t quite cheer him up, but his pose relaxes. “Guys this is Peggy. Peggy, these are more of my roommates.”

“Hello,” she says, amused at the interactions between the different guys.

“Ah, another fellow Brit. How lovely,” Pinky says. “Monty here is half and half. He was born here though, so unfortunately he doesn’t sound as lovely as us.”

Monty snorts and rolls his eyes. “You’ve lived in America for more than half your life Pinky. Never mind the Old Sport here. Nice to meet you Peggy.”

“Hey, you’re British. What’s your opinion about who is the best Doctor?” asks Junior.

“Unfortunately, my knowledge is a bit sparse on the topic. I did however see David Tennent in a Shakespeare stage production. He was brilliant.”

Junior gasps excitedly. “I’m so jealous!”

Steve snorts. “Anyway. She’s studying here for the semester.”

“Cool. What in Britain are you from?” Monty asks.

“I’m from London originally, and studying at Oxford.”

“Whoa! You go to Oxford?” Junior cries out.

Even Steve looks a little taken aback.

“Oxford must seem very different from our small-town liberal arts college,” Monty muses.

“In some ways of course. In good ways. I appreciate the less rigid structure of this campus,” Peggy says. “And the fall foliage is spectacular.”

Pinky tips his cocktail in her direction. “To quote a kindred spirit Thoreau, ‘It’s the beauty within us that makes it possible for us to recognize the beauty around us.’”

Monty rolls his eyes. “What happened to being over Thoreau and thinking him to be a wuss?”

“I said nothing of the sort!” Pinky sorts. “Just because I’m merely expressing my enthusiasm for Fitzgerald this evening—”

“Oh is that what you’ve been doing? You’re not just using your Jay Gatsby costume as an excuse to hit on guys who think are hot by calling them Old Sport.”

“I told you! I’m exercising my academic integrity as a scholar of literature, naturally, by playing out the queer undertones in classic American Literature,” Pinky sneers.

A new addition joins the group. This guy seems to be wearing all normal clothing, apart from a pair of fluffy, pink bunny ears.

“Is that the story you’re sticking to still Pinky?” Bunny Ears says rolling his eyes. He reaches behind the three guys for a bottle of soda. “You have definitely told me a 3-piece suit was the perfect way to pick up guys. Besides, you actually have to be writing your thesis for it to count.”

He winks and walks away as everyone bursts into giggles.

“Now you wait right there Sawyer! You can’t be a scoundrel to me and just walk away!” Pinky calls after Bunny Ears before following him out.

“But back to Doctor Who—” Junior says to Monty.

Steve gestures back toward the living room as some new sort of debate starts up and they walk away with waves.

“Ignore them. Pinky especially. He’s got a flair for the dramatic, if you couldn’t tell from the expensive Gatsby costume.”

She starts giggling and can’t stop. It’s been a while since she’s walked into anything quite so amusing. Steve grins at the sound of her uncontrollable laughter.

“So those are your housemates?”

“Some of them,” Steve confirms.

“So, you’ve got Jay Gatsby, some Doctor Who character and…?”

“Oh Junior? He’s Neo. From the Matrix?”

“And the bunny?”

“Oh. That’s not a costume. That’s just Sam. He’s really not a costume guy. But house rules requires a Halloween costume, so the bunny ears were forced on him.”

“Well he looked positively thrilled.”

“Exactly. That’s why we have ironically nicknamed him Happy Sam.”

She snorts. “So we’ve got Gatsby, the Doctor and Neo debating which is the fittest actor before switching to a philosophical debate. With a not-bunny interjecting about the integrity of said debate.” Peggy giggles again. “This is an absurdly amusing night. I’m thoroughly enjoying this.”

He joins her giggles this time.

“I’d swear the rest of my roommates were more normal, but this house is big enough for more than one drama queen. They’re good guys at heart. Really.”

She believes him.

“Peggy!”

Angie skips over to her, reaching for her arm. Bucky trails just behind her.

“Are you doing okay?” Angie asks quietly, their standard check in, unnecessary but one she appreciates all the same.

“Yes, I am. Steve’s very nice.”

She grins at her and then at Steve. Then winks so big she can’t help but wonder if Steve’s house can handle another dramatic personality in one party.

“Isn’t this a great Peg?” She doesn’t wait for a response. “I was telling Bucky how much more fun this party is than others we’ve been to. Definitely the opposite of your bad party experience.”

There’s a loud chorus of cheers followed by an equally loud groan.

“I think Dugan just lost another game of beer pong,” says Bucky. He grins at Steve, wriggling his eyebrows and gesturing to a big burly guy wearing the largest ten-gallon hat she has ever seen who was dramatically falling to his knees in defeat.

“That’s one of our other roommates,” Steve points out.

“Does that mean we can play?” Angie asks.

“Of course!” Bucky replies.

“Okay! You can be my partner. Come on English! You can give us some real competition.”

“Oh I—”

“Steve can be your partner!” Angie volunteers on his behalf. “Right Steve?”

“Um, well sure.”

“See! Come on!”

Peggy rolls her eyes only to see Steve give her a sheepishly look. But he follows as Angie pulls Peggy towards the table. Steve helps Bucky reset the cups before joining her on one side of the table.

“You any good at this Peggy?” Bucky asks from across the way.

She shrugs. “I can be very competitive.”

He laughs. “Well Steve’s a good partner. He’s a painter you know, so his hand-eye coordination is really good.”

She looks over to Steve who is giving his friend a sharp look and looking slightly pink again.

“I’m sure plenty of experience has helped too,” she replies, assuming it to be a regular staple at their house parties.

Bucky shakes his head. “Nah, it’s all talent, believe me because this guy barely shows up to our own parties.”

“Alright that’s enough talk punk,” Steve replies dryly. “Just start the game already Buck.”

Peggy bites her lip amused at the two friends.

“Fine by me jerk,” he replies with a grin before handing a ping pong ball to Angie. “Ladies first, Miss Dorothy.”

Peggy turns to Steve. “I’ve only played this twice before so if we lose I will take full responsibility. But in truth I am very competitive so perhaps that will give us an edge.”

Steve snorts. “Don’t worry, Bucky is mostly all talk. Plus I think he’s got at least three drinks in him now, so we have that going for us too.”

Peggy ends up sinking three shots in a row.

“Hey I thought you weren’t any good at this,” Bucky calls from across the table without any real bite. She thinks his easy-going attitude is a good match for Angie’s enthusiasm.

“No she didn’t,” Steve replies. “You just assumed that when she said she was competitive.”

Peggy grins then shrugs her shoulders innocently. “What can I say? I have plenty of other skills and hobbies that have honed my own hand-eye coordination.”

“It’s true,” Angie nods sagely. “Peg’s a bit of a daredevil. She has archery awards. And you played rugby, right English?”

“Amongst other activities,” she replies coyly.

“Rugby huh?” Steve asks as he lines up his own shot. “That’s awesome!”

“Thanks. I haven’t played in years, not since my studies have taken over schedule, but it was a great way to work out some stress. I miss it for that.”

They win the first round easily, Bucky groaning in disbelief with every new splash of the ping-pong ball. Steve high fives Peggy, while Angie crows about beginner’s luck.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” says the roommate wearing the ten-gallon hat called Dugan. “You’ve got a hell of an arm,” he tells Peggy.

He continues to spectate as Bucky and Steve arrange the cups for another round. The second game is much more tense as Steve and Peggy only narrowly stay ahead of their competition.

“Wahoo!” Dugan cheers wildly as Steve sinks a shot, Peggy sinking the next.

“What the hell Dugan? You’re supposed to me on my side!” Bucky cries out.

“Sorry Buck, I’m on the side of the talent.”

“Ouch! You’ll be eating your words, Woody.”

The name seems to irritate Dugan for some reason. “You’re lucky I won’t be here for much longer to kick your ass James Buchanan Barnes. Prepare for defeat next time.”

“That’s Bucky’s full name,” Steve explains, “he hates being called James. Plus we have two James’ in the house. Though actually now that I think about it both Monty and Bucky go by nicknames.”

They lose the round, Peggy shrugging at Steve while Dugan trash-talks on their behalf as Bucky and Angie perform some sort of victory dance.  
The middle of the tie-breaking third game, both teams neck and neck, is interrupted by an abrupt change in music. Everyone looks over toward the dancefloor which is now taken over by a whole swarm of Stormtroopers. They start what seems to be a choreographed robotic routine to a dance remix of _Spooky Scary Skeletons_. The whole party pauses to watch the show. A Stormtrooper in the middle even starts breakdancing. Angie laughs in delight, pulling her phone out to snap photos while dancing along in appreciation. The costumes even light up in sync to the music.

And as abruptly as it started, when the song ends, the Stormtroopers disperse in separate directions and the previous playlist returns. Peggy watches Dugan step away to go meet one of the Stormtroopers who has pulled off his helmet, high fiving him.

“So that’s what Morita meant when he said he had a big plan for tonight and needed to invite all his Computer Programming buddies?” Bucky asks Steve across the table.

Steve laughs. “I guess so. I saw him asking Howard and Dernier for help rigging his suit a few weeks ago, but I didn’t know about this.” He then turns to Peggy and shrugs. “Did I already mention that my roommates are all a bit much?”

She meets Angie’s amused eyes and they share disbelieving smiles.

“No wonder your house is campus famous,” Peggy tells Steve.

The rest of the game is an all-around disaster for all of them as they spend more time copying the Stormtrooper dance moves than aiming for cups. At the last minute, Bucky sinks the final shot to end the whole thing. Naturally, their bragging is relentless.

“That was a really close one. Those are the losses that cut the deepest,” Steve’s roommate Dugan says in solemn tone of sympathy.

“My beginner’s luck took us far,” she replies with a shrug.

“Which definitely offset my lack thereof,” Steve adds. “This is Peggy by the way.”

“Timothy Dugan,” he says extending his hand, his face breaking out in a jolly grin. “Nice to meet you Peggy. Hope this one here has been showing you a good time.”

Steve looks like he would like the floor to swallow him up. But she takes an instant liking to Timothy.

“He’s been an excellent host.”

“That he is. Steve’s a thoughtful one. An all-around stand up and considerate guy.”

Steve clears his throat to interrupt. “When do you have to leave for your shift Dugan?”

He pulls out his phone and inspects it. “I’ve got about another half hour.”

“Dugan works for the Campus Safety Walks program,” Steve explains.

“Yep. Halloween’s always a busy night. Hence the overindulgence in trying to whoop some ass in beer pong, since I had to abstain from the booze and partying for tonight.” He doesn’t seem put out by it though, his smile never failing. “But our parties are always a good time, Halloween or not. You’ll have to come back for the next one Peggy. You and Steve can try to show me up.”

“Talking smack already?” Steve challenges.

Dugan chuckles. “You have to understand I didn’t lose for lack of my own skill! Do you know how distracting it was to have to explain over and over again that I’m not Woody from Toy Story between shots?!”

“You can’t blame people from not having seen an obscure Western from five decades ago. Just roll with it. You’d make a great Woody.”

He grumbles.

“There’s a snake in my boot!” Someone cries at him from across the room. It’s Bucky, smirking at them from his spot next to Angie.

“I think the Rocky costume has gone to his head,” Dugan says shaking his head. “Alright, I’ll leave you two to mingle. And Steve don’t forgot to call me if anyone here needs a walking buddy later. Well Peggy, I hope to see you around.”

He winks before walking away.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Peggy starts, “what’s with the name Howling House? Do you use it all year or is it just a Halloween thing?”

Steve laughs but his cheeks turn a little pink in response.

“Actually, we call ourselves the Howling Commandos. It’s kind of embarrassing really, but it was something that we called the group Freshman year. It was a dumb joke but the name ended up sticking.” He snorts to himself. “Though Howling House sounds way better, especially for Halloween. Damn, we should have used that.”

“So why the Howling Commandos?”

He peers into his cup then back toward the dance floor, tracking Dugan’s movements as he talks to a several people.

“Sadly, I have a feeling you’re going to find out real soon.”

Steve notices she’s abandoned her long since empty beer.

“Can I get you another drink?” he asks. “And believe it or not, we do have better options besides beer. Or water or soda?”

“I wouldn’t say no to another beer for now.”

“You got it! I’ll be right back,” he promises with a grin.

She smiles back and settles in to watch the festivities for a moment, enjoying taking in the sounds of spooky-themed music, the overlapping conversation and laughter from different groups mixing with the joyous cheers and disappointed groans of beer pong winners and losers. On the surface, it’s a typical party similar to others she’s attended. But Peggy finds herself feeling comfortable at this one in a way she hadn’t at others. There’s a good-natured cheer in the air, fun without being a chaotic, with friends looking out for one another.

“Nice leather jacket,” a voice calls out behind her. A guy she doesn’t recognize with eyes a little too glazed over for her liking stands exceedingly close to her. She gives her a curt nod before turning away from him. “I bet what you’ve got underneath it is real nice too.”

“Pardon me?” She narrows her gaze at him, stepping back as he steps toward her.

“I’m just saying, I’m sure you’ve got a hot bod when you’re not wearing all those clothes.” He shrugs and smirks. “I’m okay if you want to keep the leather on though.”

She fights the sudden revulsion.

“Do you realize that harassing a stranger is not a way for them to look favorable upon you, right? I suggest you step away from me now.”

“Come on baby, you don’t have to be such a tease.”

Peggy rolls her eyes and pointedly steps several feet away from him. Unfortunately for him, he follows. Even more unfortunately, he leans into her and grabs her shoulder. She notices movement from the corner of her eye, but her anger gets the best of her. Swiftly, she smacks his arm away from her before grabbing hold of his wrist and twists it hard enough to make the idiot’s knees buckle.

“Fuck! It was a compliment, bitch!”

“Touch me or anyone else without consent again and I promise you will regret it,” she warns in a dangerous tone, twisting his arm around even harder.

When she looks up, several of Steve’s roommates are standing next to her, all staring daggers at the idiot. Peggy finally lets the guy go. Though he rubs at his arm, he doesn’t leave nor does he stop leering at her.

“Do we have a problem here?” asks the voice of Steve’s roommate wearing the Sherlock costume, his stance defensive though his tone is level. It’s directed at the idiot, not at her.

“Mind your own fucking business,” the idiot responds finally tearing his gaze away from her.

“This is our party,” the Stormtrooper roommate calls out, crossing his arms. “So if you’re here to harass people you can see yourself out now.”

“What’s going on here?” Steve had returned and he was staring coldly at the idiot guy, his back straightened and his fist tight.

After another moment, the idiot swears under his breath, and storms away, purposefully bumping Steve and swaying as he goes.

“Asshole,” Peggy declares.

“Are you okay?” Sherlock asks.

“I’m fine, really.”

He nods. “I’m sorry about that idiot. You guys know who that is? Jim?”

The stormtrooper shrugs. “Not anyone I know.”

Junior joins the group. “What happened?”

“Just some unruly, potentially unwanted guests,” Sherlock explains calmly.

“I think I’ll go check up on our drunk buddy Gabe,” Jim says before heading in the direction the idiot had gone.

Steve passes over the green bottle he had brought for Peggy, the look in his eyes still serious.

“I forgot the bottle opener,” he says clapping his head.

“There’s a bunch in the kitchen Steve. Howard and Jacques finally emerged from their basement experiments and are going hard on the booze,” Gabe tells him.

He holds out a finger at Peggy. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’m Gabe by the way. The Stormtrooper was Jim. And this is Junior.”

“Peggy. Nice to meet you,” she says with a smile. “Steve introduced me to Junior earlier.”

“Having a good Halloween?” Gabe asks.

“Better than expected. It’s technically my first. It’s not quite like all this in England,” she says. “I love all the decorations. The house looks fantastic.”

“Thanks. We’re definitely a go big or go home bunch.” Gabe takes a sip of his own drink. “You know… Steve was in charge of all the Halloween decorations,” he tells her with a big encouraging smile.

“Except for the fog machine. Stark was supposed to fix that. But of course, he and Dernier went off the rails with something they promised they would get done before the party,” Junior supplies.

Peggy doesn’t miss the look Gabe gives Junior, nor the thump on his back that nearly had Junior choking on the contents of his red solo cup.

“Point being,” Gabe says sharply, looking away from Junior, “is that he did so much of the heavy lifting. He’s just the most reliable guy. Never lets us down. And what an eye for composition.”

“Yeah… Yeah it’s all geometrically sound,” Junior adds, as he realizes what’s expected of him in the situation.

Gabe subtly thumps him again without ever losing the easy, charming smile. Peggy can’t help but smirking at the obvious behavior, but then Steve returns oblivious.

“Got it,” he says, holding out the bottle opener and gesturing to Peggy to pass over the beer. “I brought you a cup to in case you preferred that.”

“Thank you Steve.”

“Nice to meet you Peggy. Junior and I need to go over there,” Gabe points to the far side of the house and grabs Junior by the arm before he could protest.

Steve seemingly doesn’t notice anything strange in his roommates’ hasty retreat.

“Hey… About that asshole,” Steve says looking upset and apologetic, “are you sure you’re okay?” he asks.

“Yes, really. I appreciate it though.” She smiles to let him know that though annoyed, she really is fine.

He gives her a tentative smile back. “It looks like you’ve got moves. Dugan would be impressed. That was straight out of one of the self-defense lessons he teaches.”

“My older brother taught me. Though that was less about self-defense and more self-preservation. We were rough and tumble kids. And he’s older. I had to prove my standing with him.”

“Sounds like it served you well though.”

She agrees. “Do you have any siblings?”

“No, only child. Buck and I grew up together though, in Brooklyn. And with here with the house, it’s kind of like having a bunch of brothers I always wanted.”

She smiles. Even from the brief interactions she’s encountered so far, the fraternal energy is evident.

A piercing “Wahoo!” sounds making Peggy crane her neck towards the sound. It originates from dancefloor. There, Dugan is clearing space and grabbing and beckoning Steve’s roommates.

“Oh no,” she hears Steve mutter.

A piano intro sounds and before she knows it, a guy wearing devil horns grabs Steve who just barely has a moment to give her an apologetic grimace. She sees Dugan pulling Sam, who looks exactly as happy about it as his ironic nickname would suggest, his expression way more embarrassed and annoyed than Steve’s.

Then before she knows it, a chorus of male voices start howling to the chorus. Dugan pumps his fists, encouraging the group’s dancing. Angie, who had also been abandoned by Bucky, joins her to watch on in bewildered amusement for the second time that evening.

“Is this how they got the name?” Angie shouts over the noise.

“I think it’s definitely related!”

Even the less enthusiastic guys start singing and dancing along in earnest by the second verse, each “Awoo!” gets progressively louder. Peggy keeps finding her gaze drawn to Steve. Watching him look so carefree and silly with his friends is surprisingly adorable.

Angie giggles while shaking her head. “Boys!”

This is boys will be boys behavior that Peggy can get behind.

When the song ends, the guys laugh, clapping each other on the back, while Sam grumbles to Dugan. Angie skips over to Bucky, Peggy hot on her heels.

“Oh my god Bucky!”

Steve, catching Peggy’s gaze and her raised eyebrow, turns red.

“Sorry Angie, roomie tradition.” He takes her hand as the dance music resumes twirling her into his hold.

Peggy turns back to Steve. “So the Howling Commandos, huh?”

“I did say it was kind of an embarrassing story,” he says. When she puts her hands on her hips demanding details, he continues. “Our first Halloween on campus, I hardly remember why, we all dressed up as werewolves. Gabe had a boombox and we walked around campus being silly, playing Thriller, things like that. One of the songs Gabe had on the mix CD he made was that song, _Werewolves of London_. I didn’t know it when it first played. But then we kept playing it over and over again, singing along, and well…” He shrugs sheepishly. “Dugan is technically the one that named us the Howling Commandos. And so a yearly, very embarrassing, tradition was born.”

She can’t help but laugh.

A familiar song comes on and she gasps in delight and a moment later Angie calls her over.

“Do you want to dance?” she asks Steve.

He makes an odd expression. “I’m not really a good dancer.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she tells him. “Besides, it’s the Time Warp. Come on.”

Peggy takes his hand and brings him to the thick of the crowd. He’s tentative at first, but quickly loosens up, especially as the sight of her and Angie’s over enthusiastic moves. One song turns into another. And then they’re dancing to Thriller. He hasn’t stopped smiling at her since they started dancing. She suspects her face is a mirror of his, unable to look away from him. The proximity gives her another long view of his incredible blue eyes and soft lashes. Breathless, uncontrollable grins, their faces are inches from each other’s as they continue to swish and sway.

Peggy gets bumped by someone else’s overly enthusiastic dancing, pushing her out of the mess of bodies.

“I think I could use a drink,” she says loudly to Steve. “And maybe some air.”

Steve easily nods and leads her back into the kitchen. There, she meets two more of Steve’s roommates serving up drinks with the additional spooky flair of dry ice. The devil horn wearer she learns is the Howard that Junior mentioned before, a grad student and the oldest in the house. He was having some kind of scientific argument with their roommate Jacques, another international student from France who was dressed up as Nikola Tesla for the occasion.

Steve poured them both whiskey and cokes while the two argued before leading her out to the back side of the covered porch to a bench under the pumpkin lanterns.

Peggy breathes in the cold autumn air as she tries to get her ricocheting heartbeat to slow.

“I take back all my preconceived ideas of what your party was going to be like,” Peggy tells him, a little giggly from the alcohol and dancing. “This is the most fun party I’ve been to. I love your house and your wild housemates.”

“We have a good time,” Steve agrees. “That’s part of why we had the idea for getting a house in the first place. I mean not just for throwing parties, but having you a real community where we all want to make college the best time for each other. No bullying or excluding anyone. Just being good friends.”

“That’s very clearly evident,” she says. “There’s a warmth here, in your friendships and silliness. I think I’m a little envious.”

Her traitorous heart refuses to slow, not with Steve’s pretty face so close.

“So I didn’t ask before, but what are your studying?”

“Officially? My discipline back at Oxford is Philosophy and Politics. The plan was to prep for Law School. My father is a lawyer, so is my brother. I suppose there’s always been the expectation to follow in their footsteps. I recently realized I wasn’t sure if that was even something I wanted. Or what I wanted at all.”

She sighs and he scoots just a little bit closer, a gesture she takes to mean he’s open to listening.

“I like some of what I’m studying. And I’d like to be useful perhaps in the way a lawyer might be. Make underserved voices heard. But I think I would prefer a different path. If that makes sense.”

“Of course it does. You know what fits best for you better than anyone else.”

She smiles gratefully. “Right now I find myself more interested in Journalism and International Politics. That’s part of why I wanted to come here. The University has good programs for both those. But really, more than anything I wanted this semester to be able taking classes on things I enjoy. To take classes for the love of learning as opposed to just filling degree requirements.

Steve grins. “Well there’s nothing better than learning about stuff you like.”

“Yes! And I genuinely enjoy all my classes this semester. That’s huge for me. It feels… Right. But that also means I sort of overloaded my course load.”

“I’ve been there. It always seems so easy at the beginning of the semester. Then you remember what sleep deprivation feels like.”

“And since I’m here for such a short time I suppose I’ve been wanting to get the most out of the experience. Outside of just academics. Hence coming to this party even though I would have preferred just watching a Halloween movie. But this night has been a delight.”

“I’m glad to hear that Peggy.” He looks down at his hands and plays with the rim of his cup.

Before she even realizes it, they’ve been talking for more than an hour. And not only was the pleasant conversation a surprise, but that the contents of said conversation had really run the gamut, and dipped into some intimate musings.

He’d told her about his upbringing – his mother having to single-handedly raise him after the loss of his father early on. And how if he hadn’t gotten the scholarship he did, he would never have been able to go to college.

She shared the familial pressures she felt – including romantic pressure from her mother. He gently took her hand when she explained how her first year at University was marred by her controlling and manipulative ex Fred. And how she’d been finding her own ways to explore herself and her freedom ever since – including the decision to study in America.

“I’m glad to have met you tonight.”

There’s something so earnest and sweet about his tone that it comes as no surprise to her that there’s a warm, fluttery feeling forming in her chest.

“I’m happy to have met you too Steve.”

“Angie said you had a bad experience at some party?”

She nods, taking a sip from her cup.

“Yes. One of the girls on our floor invited me to a frat party. It’s not that boys are very different back in England. And of course I’ve heard stories about fraternity parties. I just suppose I didn’t expect it to be quite as… irresponsible? Or as wild I suppose as the stereotypes.”

“Which frat?”

“Eta Upsilon?”

Steve grimaced. “Yeah I know of them.”

“That doesn’t sound like you have a high opinion of them.”

“No. I don’t. Greek Life isn’t huge on our campus, not like at other schools. Though they are definitely the most exclusive. And the worst.” There’s a harsh undertone in his voice. He seemingly quickly becomes aware of it and relaxes his expression. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be so negative.”

“Not at all. I didn’t get a positive impression from them either. In fact, I had a horrible time. I actually… um, well ended up punching one of the guys.”

Steve snorts. “Good. I’m sure he deserved it.”

Her gaze narrows as she remembers the night, her grip tightening along the rim of the plastic cup.

“He was grabbing this girl. She was practically unconscious. He wasn’t listening to her say no.” She grits her teeth and then lets out a large exhale. “I pushed him off her. At first he didn’t like that. But then he took that as an invitation. So I punched him.” She takes another sip. “And kneed him in the balls.”

Steve laughs in appreciation, but then after a moment sobers.

“Was she okay? Were you?”

Peggy nods, giving him a tight smile in response to the genuine concern in her voice.

“Yes, I took her outside for air until she sobered up. Then we found her friends. When they heard what happened they were horrified. They left not long after that. As did I.”

“I’m sorry Peggy.”

“Truth be told, the whole night felt… Well I didn’t know what at the time, just that I had a gut feeling. And then there in the smoke-infested rank house… Predatory. That’s how it felt. I didn’t find it fun at all. Sure there was plenty of alcohol, but otherwise… I suppose I’m glad the night turned out the way it did.” She clears her throat. “It’s the absolute complete opposite of how your party has made me feel.”

There’s a softness to his smile, an understanding that makes her feel at home.

They lapse into silence, the two of them, a painter and a pilot, looking up to the stars, taking in the sounds of college Halloween house parties mixed in with the natural sounds of autumn creeping along, breathing in a sense of endless hope and possibilities – as one does after a long, pleasant conversation with a new kindred spirit.

“So you said you weren’t planning on hanging out at the party tonight. What were you going to do instead?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I just planned to go to my studio space for a while. It’s one of my favorite buildings on campus.”

“Can we go see it?” she asks enthusiastically.

“Sure,” he replies looking surprised at her interest.

They head back into the house so that Steve could go grab his keys and so Peggy could give Angie a heads up before she freaked out at her disappearance.

Steve effortlessly lead them back toward campus, weaving through shortcuts that were still foreign to her, toward his art department appointed studio space. Until now, she hadn’t had much of a reason to spend time on the south end of campus.

“Hey Steve. What made you pick that Van Gogh self-portrait?” she asks as they walk.

“It’s funny. I think with popularity of Starry Nights, which is brilliant don’t get me wrong, it’s overshadowed the vast amount of self-portraits he did. He painted four others in the straw hat that same year. But this one, I guess because it spoke to me when I was young. It’s the only of his self-portraits at the Met in New York. Ma took me a lot as a kid. And I remember always stopping in front of it. After a while, it felt like visiting a friend.”

“It’s at the Met?”

Steve nods. “Yeah the Met has a bunch of his work.”

“I must not have made it to him! Part of my wanting to come study in the States was that it would allow me to visit New York City. I came a few times as a child. My father used to travel a lot for work, and if there was a business trip I would beg to go. And a few times we came as a family. I remember flying over Manhattan. That view… It always gave me this rush upon remembering it. I never got to see much of the city, but I knew I always wanted to come back. See everything that I wanted to. When I finally got my parents to accept my studying here, I talked to my father about New York. He was always aware of my interest. Finally, he agreed to let me fly into New York and get a hotel for one night so that I could explore. I made it to the Met, but there was just so much to see.”

Steve laughs. “Believe me I know. Multiple trips are required. Besides, it’s sensory overload after a few hours.”

She sighs. “I’d love to go back.”

Steve swipes his student card and gestures her into the art building. The hallways are lined with artwork, and he takes her on a detour to a show her one of the current displays – a small student exhibit showing artwork inspired by Women’s Suffrage.

Then they head into a large room simply named Studio Art. It’s full of long artist tables, rows of easels and stools. The common spaces are empty on the Halloween night.

“Seniors are able to apply for one of the private studio rooms. They’re tiny, but it’s my own little private corner of campus.”

She’s about to suggest he need not open his private place for her benefit, but he unlocks one of the doors down the hall and shows her inside. It’s a burst of color, though the surfaces are neatly organized. It’s clear he puts a lot of care into maintaining the space.

Peggy doesn’t know where to look first.

“Steve!”

She sees him shrug modestly out of the corner of her eye.

On the wall next to the door, she spots several rows of familiar faces, rendered in pencil sketches, tacked up neatly.

“Are those your roommates?”

He nods with a snort.

“We joked at the beginning of the year with so many of us graduating this year that we should commission portraits and hang them in the foyer to preserve our campus legacy. But then I sort of ran with the idea. I couldn’t get it out of my head. So I’m going to do it. Paint each of them.”

“I love that!”

“But don’t tell anyone. I’m going to keep it a secret. Besides, it’s going to take me a long time since I have to juggle it with my actual class projects too.”

She can’t help but smile at him.

“Always a struggle, huh? Balancing the fun against what’s best for your own academic or career development?”

He laughs. “That’s luckily one of the perks of being an art student. I rob my personal projects for classwork and vice versa.”

“Definitely easier than me trying to pass off my philosophy coursework for economic theorems.” They share a smile. “Will you show me some more?”

Steve takes one of his portfolios from where it leans against the wall and starts to show her some of his art. He comes alive as he talks about things he’s passionate about. She thinks she might like to hear the sound of his voice for a long while.

🎃

Even from outside, the house seems quieter upon their return. Neither of them can stop smiling. Even as Peggy slips on a trail of fallen leaves, Steve reaching out to steady her. The feel of his palm, cupping her elbow, sends a spark rushing through her.

There’s still plenty of guests loitering around the house, though it’s more grouped off and mellow with the music turned down.

“Hey Steve,” a voice calls out, calling them over. It’s Junior in his long trench coat, though he’s abandoned the sunglasses, instead accessorizing with a long, serrated knife.

“How’s the pumpkin carving going Junior?” Steve asks. “Did you find all the tools from the carving kit?”

“Most were still in the dish rack from the carving we did last weekend. But the good cutting knives Howard had taken. Apparently, he needs them for some experiment.”

“Do you want me to go remind him about communal tools before he ends up accidentally or purposefully melting them?”

Junior shakes his head. “We’re almost finish. Besides, I’ll snag them a little later before they disappear entirely. He and Dernier have made peace and are watching Rocky Horror with the group in the basement.”

“Want to go join?” Steve asks.

“Yes! I’ve actually been wanting to rewatch it today. I love Tim Curry,” says Peggy.

Steve grins. “It’s another yearly tradition in this house.”

“Before you go, we just made a bunch of pizzas. And I made another batch of cookies. If you guys are hungry.”

“Thanks Junior. Hungry? I’ll grab us some slices. And Junior makes all his stuff from scratch. He’s a really good baker.”

“I could definitely eat.”

He grins and fills as many plates as he can carry. “Well, let’s go do the Time Warp again.”

Downstairs, sprawled over the couch and floor, is a group of mostly friendly faces. There are plenty of Howling Commandos represented, and she finds Angie sitting next to Bucky on the floor.

“English!” She calls out cheerfully.

The others cheer their hellos in response. For people she’s only met tonight, they certainly make a girl feel welcome.

“And where did you two disappear to?” Bucky asks, smirking.

“Just to the art building,” Steve says, ignoring his best friend’s tone.

Gabe makes room for them on the couch.

“Hey British babe, what’s your poison?” Howard calls out from a makeshift bar set up against the wall.

“Stark, we talked about this,” Gabe sighs, throwing an empty cup at Howard’s head. “Ignore the genius demon. He doesn’t actually mean harm, we’re still teaching him basic social behavior.”

“Firstly, I am not a demon. I’m a sexy devil, which as we all know is less of a costume, and more of an everyday for me. Secondly, what am I supposed to call her? I haven’t actually met her. You guys just told me to be extra nice and that she’s off limits.”

She notices Bucky throw a look of horror at Steve before a bunch of them start clearing their throats and cough loudly at the same time.

“What?” Howard asks in exasperation.

She looks over to Angie who winks at her, and Peggy bites her lip to prevent a giggle.

“My name is Peggy, wanker. And I’d love a whiskey.”

Howard smirks at her, sizing her up for a moment, before reaching for a liquor bottle. “I like her,” he declares and gets to work concocting a drink.

Steve walks over to get her drink and pour himself a new one, and when he returns she makes a point of sliding over to make room for him next to her. Between his body heat and the whiskey, she feels very warm.

“Sorry about Stark. He is a genius, but also is a really big idiot,” Steve whispers in her ear. It sends a shiver through her.

“Oh don’t worry about me, I can handle a idiot genius. Besides, I have you to translate for your wild housemates.”

They grin at each for a long while that she loses track of the movie.

It’s later than she realized once the movie ends, and some of the group discuss plans for the rest of the night. Angie snuck off with Bucky a while earlier, and Howard refilled her drink with his most expensive whiskey in what she thinks was his form of apology. She feels no pull to move away from her spot next to Steve on the couch. Her head is practically against his shoulder. And when she lifts it to look at him, they stare at each for a long moment, both slowly moving closer to the other.

Her phone buzzing in her pocket shakes her into awareness. It’s from Angie.

_**Checking in to make sure you’re okay. You weren’t in our room and I’m going to head to bed soon.** _

“Oh I didn’t realize how late it was!” she exclaims, rushing to text Angie back before she worried.

“I think we lost track of time,” Steve says having to clear his throat.

_**I’m okay. I’ll be back in a bit.** _

_**Will someone walk you home? Steve?** _

“I suppose I should be going.”

He nods, though neither make a move to get up.

“Can I walk you back?”

She nods, her heart in her throat all of a sudden now that the night is coming to an end. It probably doesn’t help that she’s both sleepy and a bit tipsy.

“Please.”

Although she thinks she would rather stay here.

_**Yes, she responds to Angie’s text, who responds with more than a few winking faces.** _

_**Good. He’s cute. Have fun with Steve. Fill me in tomorrow!!** _

He is cute. More than cute.

When he holds out his hand to help her off the couch, her fingers sliding against his, the touch feels right. She doesn’t let go of it. Not even once they’re outside.

They set a slow walking pace, both a little giddy, neither seemingly wanting to stop talking. But before long, they make it to her dorm. For the first time since leaving the Howling House, they’re not touching, Peggy fishing out her keys while Steve has stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Well, um, this is me,” she finds herself saying inanely.

“Yup,” he replies with a nod, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. “I um…” They meet each other’s eyes, both a little wild. “I had a lot of fun. Tonight. Hanging out with you.”

“As did I.”

“I’m really glad Angie forced you to come.”

Peggy laughs loud and clear.

“You have no idea.”

“Well…”

“You should text me when you get back. So that I know you made it home safe,” she tells him, holding out her hand for his phone and giving him hers.

He smiles that shy smile that’s drawn her affection all night. “I can do that.” When he returns her phone, his hand lingers on hers. “Maybe we could do this again.”

She nods, momentarily lost for words.

“Good night Peggy,” he says finally, smiling, looking at her with an intense look she’s never experienced before. It makes her take a step forward just as he turns away.

“Steve.”

Before she can think it through any further Peggy puts her hands on his shoulders and presses her lips to his. She can feel the gasp wanting to escape his lips. A moment later he kisses her back, soft lips making hers tingle. To think she almost talked herself out of kissing him.

The awed look when she pulls away ignites a fire within her.

“Good night Steve.”

Once inside, she turns back to look outside the glass door. He’s still standing there. She grins and waves.

Angie’s snoring lighting when she tiptoes back into their room. Peggy shakes her head at the absurd unrelenting giddiness coursing through her. She tosses her leather jacket onto her chair, closes her eyes and replays the night’s memories in her head. Then presses her fingertips to her lips.

Thank god for dramatic roommates.

**Author's Note:**

> Steve’s costume is particularly modeled after Van Gogh’s Self-Portrait with Straw Hat, 1887.  
> The song Werewolves of London by Warren Zevon is a delight and was one of the sparks that turned a stray idea into a whole fic universe.  
> The choice for using Eta Upsilon as a nefarious frat was simply due to the aesthetics of how the pair of Greek letters look to English readers (as is a common American college behavior, and hence even more fitting here). There may or may not be backstory/future story reasons to have said frat's symbol be "ΗΥ" 😉


End file.
